City of Heavenly Fire
by HannahHerondale
Summary: Erchomai, he said. I am coming. My sister and I's version of the upcoming conclusion to the MI. The gang from NY must find some allies in this war of the heavens. And Alec may just have to kiss and makeup with Magnus. Contains spoilers from both the ID and MI series by the fabulous Cassandra Clare who owns all rights to her characters. Co-authored by DarkWatersAhead.
1. Chapter 1- McWhiskers Salmon Dental

It has been a month since I stabbed my boyfriend with the angel's sword and infected him with heavenly fire. A month since I have kissed his perfect lips, and a month since my brother sent us a dead bird with the promise of his return.

As Jace's glow subsides and Luke's grief lessens the dark stain of Jonathan Morgenstern remains on the floor of the library as a haunting reminder to us of what is to come. And yet I cannot help but feel as if the danger has passed, it has been a month since that dreadful night in Ireland, my bruises and nightmares have begun to fade. So when I received a call from him, it all came back to me. Images of the bathroom, the blood, and his face full of sinister longing attacked my mind. I needed help, there was really only one course of action.

* * *

"Magnus."

His response was muffled through the phone, but I could still distinguish a variety of swear words and protests concerning the unreasonable hour in which his solitude was interrupted.

"What is it, _dear,_" Magnus hissed, the longing for sleep and distance from shadowhunters unveiling a heavy dose of resentfulness laced through his words. "Is Simon a rat again or do you need some overdue fashion advice?Whatever it is, the misguided service you and your shadowhunter friends think I owe you ran out when Alec and I parted ways_._"

"Magnus, he's back." The phone was slipping from my hand, a sheen of nervous sweat coating my palm. "He's back, and..."

The warlock's phone cuts out.

* * *

"Magnus?"

Another round of swearing, this time Old Norse, thunders through the phone.

"Magnus? Are you there?"

"..."

"Sebastian?!"

A piercing scream wormed its way out of the phone's speakers, stabbing my eardrums with its almost supernatural volume.

"Let him go you piece of shit!

"That may be a bit difficult Clary…. you don't happen to have a bag of McWhiskers Cat food do you?"

"Wait, what?"

* * *

An hour later I found myself at Magnus' doorstep, ringing the doorbell with my right hand and holding a bag of McWhiskers Salmon Dental in the other. The apartment door buzzed open, inside stood Jace. Of course everyone else from Team Good was there as well; Simon and Isabelle playing Mario, Alec awkwardly nursing the scratches on his ex-boyfriend's arms, but as always I only had eyes for one. His skin added an orange tinge to his white t-shirt that hugged his sculpted chest. Perfect. The one thing that couldn't change amongst the craziness of the year. I had to stop from stressing over my own run-down appearance of worn jeans spattered with paint and moth eaten woollen jumper. After going beyond death for each other, my appearance seemed tedious. Grasping his outstretched hand we joined the others in the main room, complete with a rampant Chairman Meow.

"You know Magnus, when you said there was an emergency, I thought you had run out of hair gel." Commented Jace sarcastically, but with a hidden dark demeanour behind his amber eyes. "This," he said gesturing to the cat shredding an embroidered satin cushion, "may just be a job for the SWAT squad."

As I poured out the biscuits into a gem encrusted bowl, Alec's mood darkened.

"You do know I have better things to do than to feed your cat, don't you?" Accused Alec.

"I thought you liked spending time with him?" Questioned Isabelle.

"SHUT UP ISABELLE!" Interjected Alec and Magnus who made eye-contact with each other. Simon made an awkward turtle with his hands, sending Isabelle into hysterics.

"Oh, the joys of nerd love." Said Jace. Glancing cautiously at me he asked the host, "but I'm guessing you did have a reason for inviting us here?"

"Yes he did," I replied as all attention was diverted to me. Taking a deep and elongated breath I began. "Last night I was asleep when I received a phone call. It was Sebastian." Around the room became tense and silent, apart from the munching of cat food. Jace tightened his grip on my hand and I continued. "He phoned to warn me I guess or threaten, and then asked me to re-join him..." I hesitated.

"Clary, what else did that sick bastard say?" Demanded Isabelle.

"He's raising an army, but not as we thought. You know when Valentine ransacked the city of bones? Well he took something, at least that is what Sebastian is claiming, some sort of spell or rune that can raise shadowhunters from the dead."

"But what would my fath-, I mean, Valentine want with such an object. He had an army of forsaken and demons, but ghosts? It…. it just doesn't seem like him." Jace asked.

"All Sebastian said was that Valentine was going to use it to restock the shadowhunters once he purged the clave. This enchantment will not just re-animated the shadowhunters it will revitalise them to their prime, when they became a man."

"Or a woman." Chirped in Isabelle, resulting in dark looks from the gang.

"What?" She said. "Some women have been the best shadowhunters in history, take me for example."

"As lovely as this debate of sexism is, which mind you has been going on for centuries, I think it can wait a bit longer to gain your expertise Isabelle." Interrupted Magnus. "At least now the waiting game has ended for I am hopeless at sleeping lions. What we all need now is some rest, a shower," he looks pointedly at Simon, "and some more expertise. Lucky for you all, once again I can provide all this, but first I need payment- a concept I know is as foreign to you all as Amitabh Bachchan."

"Who?" Echoed the group.

The warlock waved our question away. "No matter my DVD player is broken, what I need is someone to watch the Chairman while I am out." I sighed internally.

With the spare bedrooms quickly filled, I took the couch and gave the feline a tentative rub under his neck. Jace lingered by his door.

"You know you don't have to sleep out here." He hinted.

"Well you are a bit of a fire hazard at the moment and I do like this jersey."

As he went to close the mahogany door he responded.

"Fair enough Fray, many the women have commented on that same subject."

A small thud and I was alone to my thoughts. Despite my mostly collected manner I was the Titanic inside. I, and probably Jace, knew deep down that my brother's offer was for more than a partner in crime, a sister to support him. The mere contemplation gave me wave after wave of goose-bumps but Ireminded myself I was safe. I was here in this apartment with Jace. Was I safe?


	2. Chapter 2- By Dickens!

As much as Magnus would have liked to be asleep when Clary had called during the god-forsaken hours of the morning, he hadn't. After centuries of living not much could shake his easy going demeanour but the events of recent had rocked him to the core. Maybe it was the fact that a month ago he was willing to give it all up for Alec and now immortality did not seem so immortal.

But wounds heal, helped a lot by magic, and now he had one mission, one hope of saving the delinquent shadowhunters infesting his home. With the moon still prowling the sky any decent New-Yorker would be passed out somewhere but this person was a Londoner at heart.

Like any flat this one was overflowing with possessions, although with the normal clothing and accessories replaced by edition after edition of novels. After waiting at the door for an unseemly long duration - a whole two minutes- he pulled out the spare key from his vintage Henry Poole waistcoat and with some elbow-grease was in.

The living room shadowed any great library with copies of the Bronte sisters to Tennyson scattered lovingly around the overshadowed furniture. Despite the normal appearance of the room something seemed off to Magnus as he closely examined the coffee table. Atop a first edition of "Pretty Women" sat a jade pendant and beside it a pearl bracelet.

"By Dickens, she's got more than last time," he murmured, rummaging through a pile of discarded paperbacks.

Halfway through his investigation of the room Magnus was interrupted, as the bedroom door swung open to reveal a twenty-year old girl with soft brown hair dressed in only a bed sheet.

"See James you are hearing things, there is no one here-" She gasped as her grey eyes laid sight on Magnus.

"Sublime timing I see as always, Tessa." Teased Magnus, housing a cheeky expression.

* * *

Clary pushed the door open as nervous trepidation churned in her stomach. The hall seemed to close in on her, and the soft voices of breakfast conversation seemed a million miles away. How on earth was she going to tell her mom that her diabolical, demon blooded, _incestuous _brother was once again affecting their lives?

The answer was decided as she saw her mother's radiant smile through the opened door. Wafting through she could smell the freshly squeezed orange juice and the apple cinnamon pancakes being platted up by an equally cheery Luke. It seemed like an illusion created by some sort of demon, but as she finished off her fourth pancake she was transported back to her tenth birthday.

_Weeks and months leading up to the birthday there was only one thing that Clary had nagged her mum for upon no end- an everlasting stack of pancakes. As the cupboard was stocked with syrup all was going to plan until the night before, when the stove top stopped working. Defeated Clary had gone to bed, her dream vanishing into smoke. Too antagonised over the evening's disappointment she had slept in the following day, to be woken by her mother._

"_Clary time to get up, your breakfast is going to go cold!"_

_With her hair a bright tangle she marched down the hallway to find a tower of pancakes at in front of her chair. She catapulted towards her mother, arms outstretched, jubilant with only one word in mind._

"_How?"_

"_Well, Uncle Luke has a bit more than books stored away at his house." Replied a figure at the entryway._

"_LUKE!" Clary screamed as she rushed over to her saviour._

"_Happy Birthday Clary," He said amongst a cuddle of joy._

Now looking over her mother and Luke, she thought to herself how little and how much things had changed since that day. With her mum's hand rested lovingly on Luke she turned to Clary.

"I know how strenuous this past year has been for you Clary but Luke and I have something we would like to tell you."

Mile upon mile of thoughts came rushing through me, until I came to one conclusion.

"Mum, are you pregnant? I didn't know at your age, -no offense- but I didn't think it was possible, especially with, well Luke being a werewolf and all, you know." Clary blurted out. Her fair cheeks blossoming with redness. Across from her Luke mirrored her embarrassment, his mouth firmly shut. Jocelyn on the other hand lightly laughed it off.

"Who are you calling old hmm," She chuckles. "But no I am most certainly not pregnant. No, Luke and I have decided to go on a vacation, a pre-honeymoon of such. You know to do normal things, see the Colosseum, Big Ben. Normal couple stuff." She pauses. "If that is ok with you sweetie, I'm sure you could come with us if you wanted."

"No, no mum that's fine- I mean that's great, wonderful that you and Luke are going travelling together. Seriously it sounds perfect." Clary responded to her mum's worried look, even putting on a smile for the two. "And you know I'm sure they have a spare room at the institute….."

"Oh I see how it is Clary, you would rather go stay with your boyfriend then travel around the world with us. Well I'll have to see what I will do about this-" Her mum grinned at her and then at Luke, before racing over to the stack of guidebooks by the television. Jokes about Jace? Going travelling? Pancakes? It had been so long since her mum, and by the looks of it Luke, had been in such a good mood, that the happiness almost started to infect her. Almost.

* * *

Back at Magnus's apartment everyone else had finally woken up, or more emerged from their rooms as Clary set her platter full of pancakes on the bench. Sitting on a kitchen stool was Isabelle simultaneously nursing a cup of coffee and scowling at the mug's writing, _'Coffee, best served darker than a shadowhunter's soul'_. On his cell Simon was chatting away to Maia, who was with Jordan hunting the rogue vampire Maureen. They were yet to find any definitive leads and said it was 'uneventful' for the meantime- wording that seemed to bemuse Jace.

From down the hallway she could hear the _parabati_ bickering with one another,

"JACE HERONDALE DO NOT DARE TOUCH THAT VASE!"

"I don't see what your problem is Alec it's covered in dust!"

"IT"S AN ANTIQUE, MAGNUS GOT THIS IN PARIS DURING THE FRENCH REVOLUTION!"

"The only revolution I see is that sculptors lacked a certain finesse back then. Maybe if I-"

"TAKE ONE MORE STEP AND I'LL, I'll, I'll"

"What tongue tie me to death? It does have an original flair to it. And what is it to you? I thought you were 'done with that damn warlock who thinks he can just give up on us when I had already brought him a birthday gift, that may I tell you is non-refundable' . As a lobbyist for consumer rights I can see where you are coming from."

The conversation was quickly followed by Alec stamping through to the kitchen and joining his sister on a stool. Pouring herself a cup she offered to Alec,

"Coffee?"

"You know, Fray, nothing turns on a stunningly attractive man on fire more than his girlfriend in the kitchen." Comments Jace as he strolls in twirling a rainbow duster, sending glitter everywhere.

"Well it could just beat your boyfriend standing in the same kitchen, wearing an apron asking, '_do you think these hands get dirty_?'" She mocks.

Isabelle snorted in time with the sound of Magnus' front door opening. Five sets of eyes confronted the arrivals. Magnus, sporting a grin that has been missing of late, and two figures still obscured by the hallways shadows.

"Are you, smiling?" Asked Isabelle, completely dumbstruck by the warlock's jovial expression.

"Closer to grinning like a lunatic," Jace muttered.

Magnus took a brief pause to glare at the two cynics, but once again lapsed into happiness and entered the room. The pair followed him in cautiously. A young woman with brown hair, a jade pendant around her neck and a man's arm around her shoulder. The man-

"Wait," said Isabelle, "When did Brother Zachariah get hot?"


	3. Chapter 3- Arca Ultima

"Sir, the latest list just came in."

Sebastian swung his leather office chair round to confront the man intruding his solitude. Before him stood a dark Shadowhunter whom Sebastian couldn't quite put a name to. Glen? Graham? Gerard? That was the problem with these Dark Shadowhunters, when you destroyed their soul, their capacity for individual thought, they became nothing but husks of their former selves. Sebastian was growing weary of their solemn and dutiful manner. He was alone amongst a crowd of mannequins pretending to resemble humans.

_It almost makes me miss, no. I don't need them. I don't need anyone. _Sebastian shook his head as is to dispel the thought, then snatched the parchment from his officer's hand.

_**Aldertree, Shaun, 1-3-1**_

_**Blackwell, Amanda, 1-3-2**_

_**Bellefleur, Diana, 1-3-3**_

_**Cartwright, Thomas, 1-3-4**_

Sebastian continued scanning through the list, his scowl deepening. The Dark Shadowhunter shifted his feet and wrung his gloved hands. Then, Sebastian's black eyes stopped roaming. A facial twitch transformed his glower into a smirk, and he stood up.

"Take me to the ashes."

* * *

The mute glow of torches reflected off a bead of sweat swelling on the Dark Shadowhunter's neck. Sebastian found his eyes drawn to the droplet as he followed the man through a maze of tombs and passages. Everywhere the pair went growths of pale quartz had sprouted from the walls, petrified imitations of life.

The Dark Shadowhunter glanced back at his master, "Are you sure you want to come down to the Depths? I'm sure it can be arranged for the ashes to be delivered to your office."

Sebastian halted in his observations of the crystalline decor to glare at the man. "Do you believe me unfit for a short walk, you flat faced piece of inbred _scum!_"

Flat Face made no comment, the grey matter residing in his skull unable to cope with the implications of the question. Sebastian sighed, then allowed himself to be lead through the labyrinth of stone and darkness.

* * *

Flat Face led Sebastian into a larger space. Natural pillars of quartz twisted up the walls of the cavern, encircling the hall in a ribcage of translucent bone. As befitting the very bowels of a great beast, tendrils of stifling heat writhed up from pockmarks scaring the floor, tinged yellow and stinking of sulphur. Laid out in military uniform lines were rows of stone slabs. Though the vast majority were empty, on some bodies were stretched out in foetal positions, the sound of retching a chorus of white noise echoing in the gloom. Milling about the prone bodies were more dark shadowhunters, cleaning vomit off oblivious faces and applying cool cloths to the particularly feverous.

Sebastian scanned the stone plinths, eager to see for his own eyes the reason for his visit.

"Which one is him?"

Flat Face gestured for Sebastian to once again follow, then starting picking his way through the stalagmites and geysers. They came at to a stop in front of an empty slab.

"Well, where is he?!" Sebastian roared, clouting Flat Face across the back of the head.

Flat Face whimpered and clutched his injury, before answering Sebastian's demand.

"Still… not… re-animated..."

Leaning in close, Sebastian grabbed the front of Flat Face's dark garb.

"Well, I guess we'll just have to remedy that slight then, won't we." Sebastian hissed, dangerously sweet and calm.

Flat Face expressed his agreement with another whimper, and Sebastian let him slump to the floor. Sebastian then glanced around at the other Dark Shadowhunters.

"You!" He snarled, pointing at a nearby woman attending to a puking mess, "collect ashes 1-4-3 from the crypt. And somebody bring some candles."

* * *

The ashes came in a simple box. It was made from plain, unadorned wood, with its correlating three digit number etched in the top of the box. Sebastian ripped it from the Dark Shadowhunters grasp, before sliding off the thin panel acting as the lid .Nestled inside was a thin layer of pale grey powder. When his breath stirred the dust, thin grains rose up and pirouetted in the disturbed air currents. A small smile curled on Sebastian's face. He turned and tipped the ashes onto the stone slab, a waterfall of soundless mist being poured into an ink circle. Along the circles edge was four candles positioned at each point of a compass. When the ashes hit the stone each tiny flame flared up. Sebastian glanced at one of the many Dark Shadowhunters who had abandoned his duties to watch the spectacle.

"You, come forth."

The Dark Shadowhunter froze, his shark dead eyes unusually wide and full of expression. Fear. His comrades offered no solace. When the chosen individual failed to make his way on his own accord, rough hands grabbed immobile limbs and shoved him to the front. Sebastian grabbed the Dark Shadowhunter, now a shivering mess, by the back of the neck.

"What was your name?"

"Je-jeremy Blueho-hood, sir."

Sebastian quirked his neck, as if examining the young Dark Shadowhunter.

"Flat Face!" Sebastian roared, his eyes still on his captive. "Where did we pick this one up?"

Flat Face had recovered from his earlier abuse and scurried to his master's side.

"This is the son of one of those lost in the battle of_ Pol na mBrόn_. When he learnt that his father had died in service to the cause, he was keen to join up. Drunk from the cup in Lilith's last contribution."

Sebastian nodded in understanding. "I see. A son loyal to his father, how _quaint,_" with that last word Sebastian snapped the boy's neck. A scarlet snake slithered from the corner of his mouth and his eyes took on a glassy sheen.

"Jeremy Bluehood, your father would be proud."

Sebastian drew a knife from his belt and slit Jeremy's throat, a grin from ear to ear. Discarding the body on the ground, he took the dagger and its new red coat to the stone slab upon which candle wax had begun to leak into ashes. As the blood dripped down to mix with the ashes, Sebastian continued with his demands.

"Pass me the _Arca Ultima,_" Sebastian commanded, so enraptured with his work to bother injecting a shred of venom into his words. He sheathed the stained blade, and another box was handed to him, this one a silvery black prism with a twisting net of runes encompassing the surface. Set into the metal was the face of a dying angel, eyes bound with a strip of iron and crimson ruby blood leaking out of its orifices. A manic light aflame in his eyes, Sebastian lifted the chest's lid. From within its depths he withdrew a vellum scroll, secured in a tight roll with a purple ribbon. Undoing the knot, Sebastian unrolled the paper and started reciting the words. They were not of earthly origin, but neither was it any known demonic language. The carefully enunciated syllables rolled off Sebastian's tongue and rose up and away from the cavernous depths of their conception. As he spoke, the ashes started to shift and writhe. With each sentence their pace quickened, a whirlpool accumulating in the shape of a man. Sebastian speech was also increasing in speed and intensity, prompted by the ashes clumping together to form flesh and blood in a cloud of garnet magic. Finally the form was nearly complete, and Sebastian's fevered chant was reaching its climax.

"_Ziphakame nikhonze me umzingeli efile we ithunzi,_"

Only three more words were required before the ceremony was complete, and the motionless body would open its eyes.

"_William Owen Herondale._"

* * *

**A/N:**

**Well there is your first look at Sebastian and of course Mr Herondale. Sorry the story has been slow so far but it will start to pick up in the next few chapters. Please review and tell us what you honestly think :) **


	4. Chapter 4- It's Team Good, Magnus

"When did Brother Zachariah get hot?"

Jem's face instantaneously erupted with blush, his pale complexion not shielding any of his embarrassment. Magnus nearly lost it as his booming laughter bounced around the room. Trying to maintain some composure he started the introductions.

"Invaders of my apartment this is James Carstairs and Tessa."

"Please just call me Jem," The once again pale Shadowhunter asked amiably.

"Just Tessa? Who exactly are you? A Shadowhunter like him?" Jace enquires pointing at Jem."

"And that ladies and gentleman, is the infamous Jace Lightwood, Wayland, Morgenstern, _Herondale_." Announced the jubilant Magnus.

Jem and Tessa shared a pained look. Silent communication alike to the bond between Simon and Clary.

"Herondale? Are you sure Magnus I thought, well I thought they were all gone?" Tessa asked.

"Didn't Jem tell you? Too much catching up elsewhere,_ hmm_?" Magnus wiggles his eyebrows suggestively. "But yes this delinquent _Nephilim_ is certainly a Herondale, he even has the star." The warlock explained.

"Oh and while I'm at it here's Clary, don't call her Clarissa, Fairchild, Fray, Morgenstern. Confusing I know. They almost have as many names as you, my dear Tessa. The lovely lady who just hit on James over here is Miss Isabelle Lightwood and her jealous, well I'm not sure they know what they are, but over there that's ummm, Steven?"

"_Err_ it's actually Simon, Magnus, I'm not sure how many times I have to say that." He corrected.

"Don't worry yourself, Samuel. And this is Alec Lightwood." Magnus finishes gesturing to his ex, lurking in the corner wearing some sort of sweater that was most certainly a fashion disgrace. But yet it worked, maybe because Magnus was in such a good mood or perhaps because it was Alec. Now he was checking him out, _again_, his stunning blue eyes which lay under his perfect black hair and his lips. Oh how Magnus wanted to send his glitter flying and kiss those beautiful lips of Alec's. To whisper how sorry he was and make-up in his bedroom. Yet, he restrained his heart-pumping passion and fixed his eyes back to the group of Shadowhunters.

"Well, now that's over with. Let's start shall we, world to save, evil brother to defeat, humanity's only hope and all. I call to order the 5th meeting of the Freedom Fighters, or whatever cheesy name the vampire gamer has come up with." Stated Magnus very matter of factly as he focused on his inner superman.

"It's Team Good, Magnus." Simon added, not at all shamed by his virtual warfare experience.

* * *

Before the meeting commenced, coffee had to be distributed to the masses and hair gel touched up, so it was nearing noon when the meeting was actually under way, around the re-appeared round table. Plumes of curiosity between the New Yorkers and the Londoners remained, but they were set aside for the task at hand. Sprawled out more than Chairman Meow, was Magnus's Warlock map of the world, millennium edition.

"So we know that Sebastian was in Ireland a month ago." Jace started pointing at the Emerald Isle. "And we know nothing of his current location apart from the fact he has phone reception. So basically we have this," He gestured in annoyance at the map.

"But we do know that he is most likely travelling by normal means." Clary added. "Well restricted to portals and mundane transport, since I doubt he has another flying apartment parked somewhere."

"So basically we have nothing." Jace repeated with clinched fists, his rage starting to intensify. As his skin started to emit scalding heat, Tessa looked at the Shadowhunter with a curious expression.

"Magnus, you didn't say that this boy was consumed by the Heaven's fire." She noted as her eyes remained fixed on Jace's boiling skin.

Jace flinched at the forthright use of 'boy' but withheld a witty remark as he focused on calming his breathing. Clary held back her hands as she was forced to watch Jace battle with his inner fire.

"Did I forget to mention that? Well James did know and it was going to come up eventually…Anyway I was thinking that with your past _experience _with Heavenly Fire that you could help the boy, especially since, well you know. " Magnus confessed. The meeting quickly escalated, along with the temperature of the room.

"Look." Stated Clary. "We need to deal with Sebastian once and for all but, with Jace's condition, he's not coping. Magnus, can you help me find my brother, while the other's help Jace?" She pleaded, desperation finally sinking into her words.

"I'm not dead yet and I can still hear you Clary." Jace interrupted. "You aren't going after that, _monster_, alone. Not while my heart is still beating."

"As sweet as your feverous words are Jace, there are more than the two of you here. Magnus will accompany Clary along with myself. I want to personally be there when that scumbag meets his fate." Isabelle stated whilst stroking her golden whip.

"Excellent. Now that this week's soap opera has ended can we please get to it? The next season of Project Runway starts in two weeks and it's an All Star season. Clary girl, Isabelle you better pack lightly because we going to visit an old home of mine; London. It's shopping time!" The Warlock exclaimed. His head darted to the sound of coughing. "Ok, ok, Vamp boy can come too."

Supported by his _parabati,_ Jace rose to farewell his girlfriend. Embraced, Clary's t-shirt stuck to her with sweat.

"Cool it down won't you." She joked, trying to ignore the all too familiar feeling of fearin her stomach. Fear of Jace's condition, fear of facing her brother again. His lips gently pressed to her neck in a drawn out kiss. Moving his head now behind hers he hoarsely whispered.

"_I would say that you don't have to do this but I would be just lying to you. I know you need closure and that this is the only solution. But I should be doing this with you, together. I love you Clarissa Morgenstern._"

Portal drawn up, the four of them entered the glowing abyss. Her last image of friends, Jace's glowing gold eyes.

"_I love you too Jace Herondale."_

* * *

With a shower of light, the apartment became emptied. Jace collapsed into his armchair as the fire burned stronger, eating the strength from him. Instantaneously Alec rushed to his _parabati's_ side and questioned Tessa.

"What do we do now?"

Anxiety attacked her resolve as she looked into his endless blue eyes. It had been over a century since she herself was infected by Heavenly Fire. She recalled the never ending torture as her soul was scorched by heaven's judgement. The brief moments of respite which she spent in Will's arms, his eyes identical to those staring at her now. Grasping Jem's hand for support, she went about trying to replicate the miracle cure she had healed herself with back then and had spent ever since trying to understand.

"Alec get as much, ice, cold water, anything you can procure. You need to try and lower his temperature, even a few degrees will help. Jem please go and look in Magnus's closet for a robe of some sorts, as light as possible please." The two male Shadowhunters rushed off to their tasks while she sat beside the sick Herondale. Like a mother she was those years ago, Tessa stroked back Jace's sullen blond locks. Out of the hundreds of golden threads clumped together on his forehead, one separated from the group onto her fingers. Holding up the strand to the light she repressed all the dark memories and began to change.

Hers limbs twisted and moulded into his form until they no-longer were those of Tessa Gray. A plasticine figure, her skin started to melt as the Heavenly Fire took her system captive. In her blurring peripheral Jem's figure scrambled towards her, a flamingo coloured rope in hand. With her fading moments of consciousness she touched the familiar spot of her collarbone and prayed to her angel for his mercy once more.


	5. Chapter 5- Hangover of Death

Sebastian looked down upon the Shadowhunter's features. Blue eyes, squinting with eye lids only raised to half mast, twitched back and forth as if trying to understand the thicket of faces obscuring a view of the ceiling. Will looked as if he was trying to form words, scouring through his vast array of vocab, trying to express his confusion. His eyes finally focused on the closest looming figure, Sebastian, mouth slightly curved and ready to dish out a witty remark,

Then he puked.

Thick globs of stomach acid and blood decorated Sebastian's otherwise clean black garb. His white blond hair was coated in a crown of vomit, strings of gloopy sick hanging over his brow. All around the cavern Dark Shadowhunters stood frozen in their dumbfounded shock. Flat Face hurried to his master's side carrying a damp rag.

"I-I-I am s-s-so sorry, sir. I should have w-warned you about the reanimates, v-volatile, disposition." By now Sebastian was cleaning off his face to the sound of Will retching.

Flat Face wrung his hands anxiously. "Sir, what d-d-do you w-wish of the miscreant?" He stuttered, gesturing to Will's chundering form.

His eyes clear from obstruction, Sebastian gave his coldest smile.

"Make sure his airways stay clear, and retrieve me when the rest of the list is awake." As Sebastian made his way through the great stone hall hundreds of eyes followed his progress.

_Why was he spared? _The Dark Shadowhunters thought, _why is William Herondale different?_

* * *

"As many of you may have realised, death no longer has a hold over any Shadowhunter here." Sebastian's voice boomed from the terrace overlooking a different cavern from the one filled with stone slabs and sulphur, instead reanimated Shadowhunters barely over their nausea lined its walls. At his side, Flat Face was inflated with a false sense of importance, almost prompting Sebastian to fling him over the stone balustrade.

Instead, Sebastian continued with his speech. "I too have escaped the reapers grasp, and understand how confusing the bright lights of life can be." Sebastian looked down at the mob, a preacher observing a congregation. There was little movement, most Shadowhunters either still feeling the queasy repercussions of reanimation. Few were listening, even fewer still were actually paying attention to what Sebastian was saying. So he tried another approach.

"How did you die?" Now, that was a question that got more eyes on him. There were a few murmurs, but no distinguishable individual voices.

Sebastian chose a face at random, a young Shadowhunter with pretty green eyes. "You!" he roared, "How did you meet your end?"

Green eyes shuffled her feet, conscious of the numerous eyes boring into her. "Demons. I died when the demons got me."

From within the crowd came murmurs of empathy and agreement echoed her declaration. Demons. They were the reason for the extremely low life expectancy amongst Shadowhunters.

Sebastian nodded. No need to mention he was actually killed by a Shadowhunter alike to many in the crowd.

"That's right. We were tasked by Raziel to fight demons, but what has that earned us?" Beneath him the press of Shadowhunters were increasing in volume and intensity, so Sebastian raised his voice to compete with the ruckus. He was struggling to keep a grin from spreading across his face.

"Death and funeral pyres!" He roared, "Nothing but dust and shadows!"

_Now_ people were paying attention to Sebastian's passionate words, those with the horrors of death still fresh on their mind even crying out in agreement. The mass of Shadowhunters appeared to Sebastian as a boiling lake of fury at his feet, constantly moving and ready to explode. There was only one spot of calm amongst the mob. A lone Shadowhunter, acting as the eye of the storm. He looked around at his companions, and upon realising that they were all caught up in Sebastian's fervour, decided to speak up.

"Old age." He said, the quiet words attracting the attention of his fellow Shadowhunters through its contrast to their own angry calls.

Sebastian looked at Will, his eyes narrowed. _What is he playing at, _Sebastian thought.

Will glanced around, as if dumbfounded by the scrutiny he was facing in the wake of his vague comment.

"I thought we were discussing how we all died? Well, I died with my wife in my arms and my _parabatai_ at my side."

Silence. It was if they had all returned into their deceased state.

Sebastian cleared his throat, eager to once again be in the spotlight. "Then, my brother, you are among the few and the lucky. But death, no matter how peaceful and swift, is a painful and pointless thing. What I wish to offer you is a release from that awful burden. What I wish to offer you all is simple. Immortality. No strings attached."

Sebastian had dropped a bomb amongst the Shadowhunters midst. Shockwaves of shock, disbelief, and eager whisperings assaulted the very walls of the stone chamber. Even Will looked taken aback, brow drawn inwards in uneasy scepticism. Sebastian merely nodded at the Shadowhunters, before extending on his ambitious remark.

"I have already thrown off the shackles of my death sentence. The Clave? They are just a bunch of common town idiots. They are just the next generation of fools deluded enough to throw away their lives in service of a pointless cause!" He was shouting now, and the crowd was echoing his calls. "Join me and we will be more than the dusty mortar of a wall in the City of Bones. Together we will fear no more!" The crowd erupted. All traces of their ghostly states evaporated into the heat of their cause. Their time had once again come and they were not going to waste it.

His soldiers united under his banner of immortality, Sebastian almost pitied the Clave, _almost_. With his loyal Dark Shadowhunters the abundant pawns on his chess board, he had now filled it with knights and bishops ready for his command. But next to his throne sat empty the space of his queen. Clary. Her name sent his nerves on edge with rage, lust, frustration, longing, he could not name it. But his board would be filled soon he would see to it. Snapping his fingers, Flat Face scrambled towards Sebastian.

"Y-Yes, master?"

Sebastian basked in the bloodlust radiating from his newest soldiers. Still surveying the crowd, he gave Flat Face his orders.

"I think it was about time my dearest sister and brother joined us, wouldn't you say?"

* * *

Spanning across the hill knoll awaited Sebastian's army. Dark Shadowhunters with only one thought in mind, his own, and those newly arisen from death and yearning for the taste of blood. Flat Face scurried to his side, his unsightly head illuminated in the meagre light of the dawn sky.

"S-sir, the men are in position as you o-or-ordered and are awaiting the signal."

"Well, what a relief, it's not like I had _eyes _to see that." Retorted Sebastian, his lieutenant's incompetence once again a blot against the masterpiece of his success. Flicking Flat Face aside he gestured, "To _your _position soldier this is an assault after all, despite the mundane opponents. It's time we test our strength and give these reformed Shadowhunters some blood on their hands."

Sliding his sword from its sheath he addressed his army. "This small Welsh town which is unremarkable in any particular way, except for a past supernatural slaughter over a hundred years ago, is the first casualty on our road to immortality and retribution. So draw your weapons my brothers in arms and stand against the tyrant Clave for all times."

"RETRIBUTION! IMMORTALITY! AGAINST THE CLAVE!" His men yelled exhilarated by bloodlust. With the sun attacking the dawning sky they catapulted down the slope to rage havoc on the inhabitants below.

Admiring his work, Sebastian was interrupted, _again_.

"Ex-excuse me sir for my impertinence. I-I-I was ju-just wondering why this particular mundane village. Closer to our camp was the village of Dolgellau." Flat Face inquired, shrinking away from his master's glare, and backhand.

Flat Face had surprised Sebastian with his small demonstration of individual thought, even if it came in the most deluded form of curiosity. Of course this village was chosen for a specific reason. When was anything done that wasn't? _Clary, _his inner-thoughts replied. Shutting away the voice as he tried to stay at the task on hand, strands of red hair curled into his mind. STOP IT! He commanded, regaining control. But yes, the imbecile was correct. A little nudge this attack was, poking the hornets' nest of the subconscious. The question was would he recall this Welsh wasteland of a village? No, he would. If his research was anything to go by this Shadowhunter would remember. But how would he react? The true endeavour of the raid. How would William Herondale cope when transported back in time?

* * *

Adjusting to living was harder than one would think. Considering how bleak death was compared to his life, Will thought he may have gotten over the shock of being eighteen and alive again. Yet as he was carried in a wave of blood craving Shadowhunters his brain was still processing it all. _It was tempting,_ he admitted. To just let his muscles react and stab a couple of innocent Welshman. Will shook his head, as if dislodging a particularly persistent thought. _No, Will, you are not just going to become a raging homicidal lunatic just because you're having a bad day_.

Out of the corner of his eye Will observed a reanimated Shadowhunter chasing a young girl down the street, black hair escaping her pigtails in a dark cloud around her head.

_Cecily. _

Will bowled into the attacking Shadowhunter in a messy yet effective tackle. Pinning the man to the ground, Will started choking him, attempting to reintroduce him to death. However his attempts grounded to a halt when rough hands threw him off the Shadowhunter and sent him sprawling on the gritty tarmac road.

One of his assailants, the young Shadowhunter with pretty green eyes, spat on Will.

"If you don't want to break the cycle of pointlessly throwing away your life, then _fine._ Just don't get in our way." She and the rest of the Shadowhunters left Will on the ground, once again on the search for senseless violence.

Will rose, a part of him yearning to join the mob in their quest to forget what had befallen upon them in their deceased state. If only there was a book entitled 'getting over your hangover of death", so he could resume being his arrogant, extremely witty self. Trudging down the pavement the village looked the part of any place in his country, a hundred years ago he was told. Then his eyes latch onto a sign swaying from a building. Finally.

Busting open the door, Will headed straight for a locked cabinet. Booty in hand he sits on a raised stool and takes a long draught of the alcohol. His throat, still raw from retching, burned like wildfire but the familiar warming of his chest ignites his old self. A few more swallows later and he is joined by a fellow resurrectee. _Is that even a word, _he thought, taking another swig.

"Well, well, well. If it isn't our resident old man and drunk by the looks of things?" Taunted a Shadowhunter with gleaming blond locks grasping a broadsword coated in blood. "Come join the fun, I'm sure there are some elderly humans yet to be dealt with yet."

Pausing for a second like he was actually considering the arrogant _priciwch's_ offer. "Sorry to say, _boy, _but this old man has yet to wake up from our early rising."

After sheathing his blade, the blonde swung a clenched fist in Will's direction. Before the blow could be struck, Will darted towards him bottle in hand. All the Shadowhunter saw was a brief flash of a grin and a bottle swinging in his direction as he was knocked cold onto the floor.

"Oh no you don't, Blondie."

Mourning the loss of his drink, Will stepped over the body and escaped back outside. Sunlight now displayed the full effect of the slaughter as buildings were repainted in red and the victims scattered throughout the village. Examining the scene with a pain in his stomach, recollection flooded his mind.

The same village, he was sure of it, just without the automatons and, and…. Will halted in the middle of the street and gazed back at the mountain from where they came. _Tessa, Jem. What happened to them once he had gone?_


	6. Chapter 6- A Dead Ringer

_**London**_

Clary's first ever portal out of New York had eventuated into her appearing in a pool of water. Irritatingly enough, the second occurred very similarly. Courtesy of the ever so _helpful _Magnus, the four of them found themselves treading water in the middle of London.

Safely on the banks and drying her hair off in disgust with a towel provided by a very willing boaty, Isabelle launched into the equally soaked warlock.

"What happened to you being 'the ultimate guide to London' hmmm? A city you apparently lived in for eons, but not enough so that you couldn't recall A SINGLE PLACE THAT ISN'T IN THE MIDDLE OF THE RIVER THAMES TO PORTAL TO! We are meant to be finding the son of a bitch who killed my brother, while my other brother is on his deathbed and now we are nearly drowned by the bastard who broke my brother's heart."

Magnus seemed confused. Leading Isabelle to a bankside seat, Simon tried to calm her down with soft ineligible words. Picking up the discarded, damp towel Clary began the mission of controlling her frizzed up hair. She tried to admire the breath-taking view of the London Eye in the setting sky and how she might try to capture it in her sketchbook, but her thoughts still drifted back to New York. Her incomplete portrait of her complete boyfriend. How Jace would have lifted the mood of the group with one of his trade-mark witty comments after Isabelle's explosion. The wound to her heart that would continue to bleed out until he was healed. His silky voice that told Clary that he loved her with the conviction of a final goodbye.

With a concerned touch on the shoulder by a once again flawless Magnus, Clary was withdrawn from her painful thoughts. Gesturing over to the park bench where Isabelle was in the comfort of Simon's embrace and close to tears, Magnus cleared his throat.

"It's probably time to get going, team."

Straightening herself up, Isabelle hid her vulnerable state. Still clutching Simon's hand she asked with regained focus.

"Where to now?"

* * *

"Fleet Street, home of the late Church of All-Hallows-The-Less and for the past near four hundred years, the site of the London Institute." Announced Magnus, arms wide in a grand entrance.

The reality was much lesser. With the building and associated site echoing the glamour for the mundanes of a rundown church, Clary couldn't help but feel a pang of disappointment of the renowned institute. Surrounding the boundary like a corpse of blackened, skeletal vines stood the fence and gate. Groaning of rust, it opened to the touch of her stele, giving them a better view to scrutinise the appearance. A once grand building, recent neglect had obviously decayed the splendour. Like a ruined castle moss and lichen leached through the displaced bricks and shards of tile cladding splintered the courtyard. Charging up the outside steps towards the large medieval door, Clary reached for the knocker.

Leaning against the crack she could hear the echo of the banging fluctuate around. Could it be abandoned? In the middle of her next round of knocks the door swung open. Clutching a decorate, old-fashioned key in one hand and a blonde doll in the other stood a ten year old, _mermaid?_ Taking only a short glance at the visitors she pushed the door out further and excitedly invited them inside. Pausing her entrance, Clary looked back at Simon who was anxiously taking in the interior of the building.

"Err, we may have to decline your invitation for now. You see, um, one us of, my friend Simon, needs to use the Sanctuary. Do you think you could let us in there, um," Clary pauses unsure of whether or not the girl had stated her name.

"It's Ariel, like from the Little Mermaid, and sure I can open up the Sanctuary for your vampire friend, just give me a moment-"

"ASTRID KLARTVANN!" An approaching voice yells.

"-Well that's my real name, the girl confesses pulling off her red haired wig to reveal locks of brown, "and you are just about to meet my Dad- "

"Johan Klartvann, head of the London Institute and happy to help all members and friends of the Clave." A middle aged man greets, his crooked glasses framing dull brown eyes with simple grey wire. With his greying hair still hosting a tone of brown matching Astrid's and slight Norwegian accent mimicking hers, they could assume he was her father.

"Sorry for the yelling before, but this little one had managed to escape her bed." He said whilst affectionately stroking his daughter's hair. "And by the looks of things also managed to wrangle herself out of her nightclothes." Astrid grinned mischievously and addressed him.

"Oh leave it Dad! You have far more important things to think about now since we have some guests needing some," _Coughs._ "Hospitality and all."

Removing his attention from admiring Astrid he apologised at once. "Of course darling, sorry folks we don't really keep much company here anymore. Can get a bit lonesome at times, especially for my young one, but we manage. Now did I overhear someone needing the Sanctuary, and no offense but you guys might need a shower as you smell like the River Thames."

* * *

After the healing of a night's rest and clean clothes, scavenged from her rucksack, Clary's body had generally recovered from the battle that yesterday had brought. Stepping outside her lavish bedroom, the ceiling rose to heavens and disappeared out of sight. Coating the walls either end of her hallway hanged tapestries moulting dust but regal all the same. Not a big believer in stereotypes, Clary couldn't help but think as she tried to traverse the maze of rooms that the London Institute seemed to be of higher class than the one in New York. Sure the general maintenance of the property was worse than most alleys of her city, but the air still breathed a sense of elegance.

"You can see it too then, by the dreamy look on your face, the heritage of this place is matched by no other in the world. It's a shame that the Herondale legacy is all but over." Johan conversed as he offered to show Clary to the dining room, "This place is a bit of a mission to get around", he admitted.

Walking down other identical hallway to the one adjoining her room, Clary questioned the friendly Shadowhunter on his previous remark.

"Did you know the Herondales, the ones that lived here? Not to seem noisy at all it's just that-"

"Your boyfriend is the last remaining Herondale. Sorry for the interruption, it's a bad habit of mine as Astrid likes to remind me." He smiles kindly. "Wherever you go, any Shadowhunter around the world has heard your story by now, Clary. So I'm sorry to tell you that I haven't personally met any of Jace's family, but you are at the heart of it now. Ever since William Herondale assumed the position as head of the Institute in the late 1800s it has stayed within the family. But after the death of Inquisitor Imogen Herondale the position became open. Believed to be cursed by the majority of the Clave I unknowingly took the position. Only a few months later the remainder of my family, save for Astrid, was killed in the battle of Alicante." Johan remained silent. Signs of grief still fresh on his skin, despite the ruins of mourning having faded. Clary resisted hugging the tortured Shadowhunter as her training had taught her that they must all treat death with respect but it wasn't something to not expect in their line of work.

Relieved to see the sight of breakfast she sat down next to a transformed Astrid. Between mouthfuls of cornflakes she noted on the girl's latest costume.

"Sleeping Beauty today, huh? I dressed up as one of the fairies from the movie on Halloween once."

"Sleeping who? Man mundane fiction is weird." Commented Isabelle. "But at least they know how to glam it up." She complimented the Princess.

"I know right! Shadowhunters never seem to dress up at all. I love to though, Dad brought me this amazing trunk full of costumes. If you want to see it?" Astrid asking hopefully looking at the guests and her father.

"Great idea darling, we need to head there anyway, Magnus has already collected the volumes of text he said you need and Simon, well he can't really go anywhere else." Johan suggested, making sure Clary and Isabelle had finish their food.

Magic wand outstretched, Astrid danced her way through the hallways to lead them to the Sanctuary entrance. Unlocking the sturdy door they entered amass a pile of books. Darting with delight Astrid embraced her costume trunk while Magnus gestured to the mountain before them.

"The London Institute holds the most extensive collection of works involving the Silent Brother's studies, bettered only by those in the Silent City. Which as we know is a bit more silent at the moment. If we can't find it in here we will pretty much have no idea of the properties of Sebastian's stolen item and how to ultimately stop his world domineering plan. So Isabelle, I'll give you first choice, '_Runic Discoveries of the 15th Century_' or _'The Search into the extents of magical capabilities'_, dated 1870.'"

* * *

Tossing the latest hardback onto the dust swirling pile, Isabelle throws her hands up.

"I am _sooo_ done. Research sucks more than cleaning every angel statue and window back home. Please tell me someone we have actually _found_ something relevant."

"Nada." Simon answers briefly before continuing reviewing his parchment pages.

"Define relevant, did you know there was actually a Silent Brother in 1783 called Brother Lucifer, ha, the irony. But if your bickering is going to exceed a minute, just go take a break. I'm really not in the mood for a Lightwood tantrum." Magnus retorts. "And take Clary too, her inability to read Latin or any ancient text is pretty useless right now. Go off shopping or something."

"What about Simon!" Clary protests.

"Rat boy can stay. Now off!" Magnus demands whilst flaunting his hands, trying not to lose his page in the process.

Storming out in frustration, Clary is quickly followed by Isabelle eager to hit the shops.

"Speaking of which, how's the Greek text I gave you going?" Questioned Magnus to Simon.

"Well, you know how I don't actually understand Greek. I was just kind of winging it, you kind of were, are, in a bad mood and so, yeah….." Responded a guilty Simon.

Fully throwing his hands in the air this time and losing his page, Magnus sighs. "Just go play with the girl or something, Johan should be back soon and then, _maybe_, we might actually get somewhere."

In the midst of whispered Warlock swears Simon joined Astrid in dressing up her doll. Not as creepy as it sounds. Rummaging through the trunk for a matching pink headband for the doll's floral sundress, Simon notices an item. Removing it from the rest of the apparel, an idea springs to his mind. Holding up the red wig Astrid was wearing yesterday he suggests.

"Hey Magnus, I see you as a dead ringer for Clary."

Whether it was sheer boredom or maybe frustration at the repetitive interruptions Magnus took the wig. Astrid giggled at Magnus's appearance.

"Like I thought, a dead ringer." Simon added, trying to keep his serious vampire voice going.

Astrid's giggles increased. She was nearing hysteria when the wall exploded.

Laughter turned to screams as a hailstorm of bricks and mortar fell upon the group. Magnus was enveloped in a nexus of glowing blue magic, which protected him from the worst of the falling debris. The various witchlight sconces barely made a dent through the swirling smoke, but Magnus could just make out the two figures sheltering next to a pillar. Simon was a shield in between Astrid and the storm of rubble, a line of bright scarlet snaking down his forehead. Blood, brighter than any humans ought to be.

From the gaping wound in the brick skin of the sanctuary came a dozen Shadowhunters, foregoing the usual gear in favour of a new design of black and dark blue leather. The first wave, three slow brutes wielding wicked metal maces inscribed with demonic runes charged forth.

_Dark Shadowhunters, _Magnus thought, before crafting his nexus into a spear and sending it through the skull of the nearest man. Blood gushed from the wound and the man fell to the ground.

Simon also joined the fight. Pushing Astrid towards the safety of her dress up box, he leaped towards a Dark Shadowhunter with fangs extended. Simon did not meet his target. The Dark Shadowhunter showed his agility by evading the vampire in the nick of time. Simon was then forced to mimic the dodge as a mace was swung at his head.

Seeing Simon's struggles, Magnus sent his next bolt into the spine of Simon's foe. However, as Magnus was distracted, the third Dark Shadowhunter snuck up behind him and struck the warlock in the head with a gloved fist. Magnus' eyes rolled up to the back of his head and he slumped to the ground. The wig managed to stay lodged of the mess of glitter and gelled locks.

"Magnus!" Simon screamed, before leaping at the Dark Shadowhunter. Simon tore his throat out, then scanned the area for his next opponent with a bib of blood from the mouth down.

_Click. _Simon froze, conscious of the sharp point digging into the back of his head. He retained his stillness as the presence behind him walked around to face him. A Shadowhunter, wielding a crossbow slathered with angelic runes. _Weird,_ he thought, _I thought that Dark Shadowhunters couldn't use those runes. _

The young Shadowhunter smirked, her green eyes laughing at Simon's confusion. "A Vamp. Haven't killed one of those in ages."

_She's one of them_. _One of those zombie Shadowhunters, or whatever Clary called them._

* * *

Clary dropped the multitude of bags, letting a river of Issy's clothes spill onto the ground. Before her lay a dead body, a Dark Shadowhunter with a ragged hole in his skull.

"Isabelle?" Clary's trembling whisper barely reached Isabelle's ears. Isabelle was more preoccupied with the outstretched corpse that was the remains of Johan. His glasses were crushed, as if someone had stepped on them.

Sobs split the silence, startling Isabelle into unwinding the whip from her wrist. Clary had no weapons, but she tensed in a battle position that Jace would be proud of. The duo approached the sound, arriving at Astrid's dress up trunk. The lid slowly rose, balancing on the small girls head of wispy brown hair. Clary dropped the stance and pulled the girl out of the box, wrapping Astrid in a massive hug. Isabelle moved away, starting to survey the rubble strewn throughout the sanctuary.

"He's dead." Astrid stated, voice shaky but disturbingly calm. "Dad. The others, they're all gone."

* * *

_**Cadair Idris, Wales**_

Pacing through the stone corridors of Cadair Idris did nothing to clear Will's mind. The dull repetition of steps being taken along paths barely worn by the tread of foot traffic only fuelled the racing of his thoughts.

_Tessa. Jem. All that was left behind._

Will rounded another corner, startling a trio of tipsy Reanimates. He pushed past them, completely ignoring their scathing glares.

"_Sympathiser,_" the whispered insult made Will turn and confront the Shadowhunters. Summoning a cynical smirk from the depths of his muscle memory, Will leaned in close to the leader of the group, a large man who's only distinguishing feature was a scar traversing the length of his face.

"Mindless sheep," Will hissed, before spitting in the man's face.

The two Shadowhunters flanking the man were stunned, no one had ever disrespected Lionel Pealbloom before. Lionel slowly wiped the spittle from the face with the palm of his hand. Will's eyes only reached Lionel's chin, and his shoulder width was half that of the big man.

Even through the blur on alcohol, Lionel could see the young man sizing him up. _Well, if you insist, _Lionel thought. The vodka in his bloodstream and the bloodlust plaguing his thoughts sung with delight as he swung a drunken fist at Will's face. Unburdened by liquor and the tiring hours spent celebrating, Will easily ducked. In return, Will elbowed Lionel in the gut. He followed that up by grabbing a fistful of Pealbloom's lank hair and throwing the big man against the wall, all before Lionel's head had stopped spinning from the first blow.

There was silence apart from the sound of Will's harsh breathing. The two remaining Shadowhunter's gazes went from their companion lying on the ground bleeding to the dark youth in front of them. They made a split second decision. They ran.

"Nothing but bloody sheep."

* * *

Many hours had passed since Will's violent confrontation, but the Reanimates had obviously spread the news of the fight. In the many passageways of Cadair Idris Will was meet with frosty looks and nervous dispositions. Will did not care either way. He was determined to wear down the sole of the boots that had been assigned to him and try and figure out what fate may have befallen his family and loved ones.

Without warning Will halted in his journey. Checking to make sure no one had somehow managed to sneak up on him, Will pulled down his shirt at the neck to examine a Mark left there long ago.

His _parabatai _rune, still as silver and pale as the day Will had first tried to comprehend a life without his brother. Will let the black cloth slide up and rest in its usual position and sighed. _It's not like I was expecting anything different, _he mulled. Will slumped against the wall, eyes closed and rivulets of quartz making painful indents in his back.

Halfway to sleep, the sound of boots clicking against stone bring Will back to the conscious world. He stood up quickly, before slipping into the shadows of an archway. As the footsteps neared, Will could distinguish two distinct voices. That of Sebastian's lieutenant, whom everyone had just taken to calling Flat Face, and the Dark Shadowhunters master. Not surprisingly, no one had given Sebastian a derogatory nickname.

The pair passed Will's hiding spot, too deep in conversation to notice him amongst the shadows.

"So," Sebastian started, "You encountered no trouble when fetching them?"

Flat Face was having some difficulty in keeping up with Sebastian's long stride. "N-no sir. The L-London institute was almost e-empty. The n-new recruits squabbled over who actually got to have some action."

Will tensed at the mention of his home. _Empty? Why was the institute almost empty? _He waited until the two men were a small distance ahead before slinking out of his hiding place and starting the pursuit.

* * *

Will had followed Flat Face and Sebastian down into the very depths of the mountain. Light was scarce, as the lit sconces on the walls fought the Shadowhunters for oxygen. He had ended up crouched behind a stone column, watching the pair standing outside an iron cell. Inside were two bodies, looking more like two piles of dirty laundry than actual people. One of the limp forms was turned so Will could almost make out the man's face…

_Wait, what was _Magnus Bane _doing here?_


	7. Chapter 7- 145 Happy Street

At times having an eccentric boyfriend,_ ex-boyfriend_, was a pain in the arse. Such as when he tries to plan a Neverland cocktail party but the fairies dress up as pirates and all hell breaks loose. But when needing an abundant supply of ice, it was a blessing, with a freezer full of popsicles, drink ice and a frozen sculpture of Peter Pan. Lugging the plunder into the main room, Alec froze as he saw his _parabati _on the table and another identical one on the couch.

His first thoughts were of Sebastian. Had the heavenly fire somehow mutilated their bond so that one would transform into another? But then why would he be here, on Magnus's couch? Alec resisted the fundamental urge to rush up to his _parabati_, or rather _parabati's_, weary of the supernatural power that had been messing with his life for far too long. From the couch, Jace no. 2 started to rise into an upright position. Biting down on his tongue, Jace's shoulders shrunk and jerked backwards. All in a storm of seeming agony Jace's toned body transformed into the much smaller one of Tessa Gray. With the transition complete and Magnus's flamboyant robe falling off her shoulders, Tessa fell back onto the couch cushions.

Unsure as how to proceed Alec remained at the entrance, lurking, staring at her with a mix of shock, uncertainty and grotesque fascination. Rushing in, Jem reaches Tessa's side and starts mopping her forehead which was slick with sweat.

"How bad was it? By the looks of things you were lucky to be able to change back at all." Jem enquired, the concern for Tessa still at the forefront of his mind.

Tessa sighed, dropping her head. "It was bad James. Your theory was correct at least. There is some sort of protection in his body holding off the full force of the infection. Whatever it is, he wouldn't have survived long before going up in flames without it."

Adjusting his mind around the idea of Tessa becoming Jace and then within minutes transforming back, Alec asked the question he needed to know. "So there is a chance? This protection could still save him?"

Tessa winced at the pleading nature in his voice and gave Jem a look of worry. "It may have prolonged his suffering but it won't save him, at least not by itself. The fire has now burnt away at most of his body and soon whatever is holding the flames back will not be enough to save him."

Like he himself was being melted away, Alec sunk onto the ground. "So that's it then. Jace, my brother, my _parabatai_ is dead for all purposes. The bravest and strongest Shadowhunter I have ever met is just meant to die in a feverous state. Please tell me that you have more than that, _please_."

Walking over to the table Tessa pulled back Jace's t-shirt and traced the mark of the angel on his shoulder, just left to his collarbone. Just like Will's it rested on his skin in the shape of a luck star, as she always had thought of it, always wondering what properties it possessed. Set apart from his golden, glowing skin, the scar shone pure white like a beacon of hope. Her thoughts passed back to her own recovery from the heaven's fire and how she had been the subject of scrutinous studies by the various Silent Brothers. A feat they told her that had never before been recorded and never thought duplicable. But something inside Tessa urged her to find her own miraculous cure to save the last of the Herondales, her Great, Great, Great Grandson.

"James, I know you gave up years ago but did you by any chance keep you research into the cure for Heavenly Fire?"

Jem sighs. "You know I did Tessa. When I came to help Jace I moved it to the New York institute. But are you sure you want to try this again? We didn't find a cure last time. There is no guarantee that I can find it in time to help Jace."

Grasping his hands Tessa looks firmly into his pure eyes. "We have to try. If not for Jace, or for his _parabatai_, but for Will. We owe him."

Kissing her gently on the forehead, Jem promised to return soon. The apartment was silent.

* * *

Applying ice packs to Jace's smouldering skin, Alec was concerned as Jace's chest struggled to rise and fall with each breath. Tessa restarted her old habit of picking her fingernails. One by one they fall onto the carpet, adding to a mess that has been accumulating since Magnus' breakup. With the last nail tip removed, she headed to the door for a gust of polluted New York air, opening it as two werewolves were in the process of knocking.

The pair brush past Tessa to stand with Alec.

"How is he?" Maia enquires, hand hovering over the Shadowhunters forehead as if testing his temperature.

Jordan ignores Jace's plight, jumping straight to the point of their visit. "Where is everyone else? No one seems to be answering their cell phones."

"Safe. Or at least as much as one can be nowadays. They all had to make a quick trip to London." Alec responded stiffly. "Jordan, Maia this is Tessa, a friend of Magnus's. Tessa, meet Jordan and Maia."

Jordon offered a quick nod in greeting. "Look, we've found Maureen's hideout. We were hoping for some backup but if the others are out, we can take the more official roots."

Still staring at his _parabatai_, Alec replies. "You can't go to the clave for assistance. Not only are they low on numbers but we can't let them know that the others have left. Let's just say it wasn't a sanctioned portal by the clave or my mother." Finally looking up from Jace he continues, "But you can't go after Maureen alone. Not after she killed Camille. I'll back you up, I'm sure Tessa can stay with Jace."

"You sure? I understand if you want to stay…."

"Jace would go."

* * *

The door to the New York institute was not dissimilar to the one mounted on the front face of Jem's former home in London. The same heavy set oak hanging on wrought iron hinges, parting soundlessly at the press of his fingertips. And yet this was not where he had spent his glory days, hunting shadows at the side of his _parabatai, _so as Jem crossed the dark thresh-hold his hackles rose and his hand reached for a knife sheathed at his belt. Jem slunk down the hallway, enveloped in a fog of unlit gloom. Witchlights, mounted periodically upon the wall, accomplished nothing but a faint wash of eerie blue shadows with distorted angles and twisted forms.

There! Lurking, a tendril of smoke flitting out of the corner of Jem's eye. A darting _thing, _a wraith moving closer and closer. Jem halted. He spun around on his heel, lashing out at the assailant. His fist connected with soft fur, followed by a muffled thump as something fell onto the thickly carpeted floor. Jem knelt down to get a better look on the fallen attacker.

"_Church?!_"

* * *

Alec was not sure what he had expected Maureen's lair to look like, but this certainly wasn't it.

"Is this Maureen's mother's house?" Queried Alec, taking in the anticlimactic dwelling.

Jordan kicked a pebble from the driveway towards the front door. There was no response from the squat abode, its drab grey walls listlessly supporting a tile roof.

"The flowers are nice, I guess..." suggested Jordan.

Alec rolled his eyes and ignored the dandelions the werewolf was pointing to. "Why would she be at home? She must know the Clave are after her."

Maia brushed past the pair of them and made for the porch. "It was actually pretty smart, on her part. Why would the Clave check here for a rogue vamp? Anyway," at this she threw a smile at Jordan, "The information came from a reliable source."

Jordan laughed then followed her up to the door. Maia knocked, causing Alec to cry out.

"What are you doing?!" He yelled, sprinting forward to snatch her hand away, "Shouldn't we at least attempt stealth before announcing our arrival?"

Before she could reply the door opened on its own accord.

"I guess we're expected," she smirked.

"You're worse than Jace," Alec growled before following the werewolves into the shadowy depths of 145 Happy Street.

* * *

The trio were frogmarched down the hall by pictures of kittens, scenes from the countryside, and awkward family photos. Alec paused to examine a class photo, Maureen's pale hair a beacon of light from amongst the drab school uniform and regulation black leather shoes. Eyes squinting he leaned in for a closer look. _There, _in black marker just below the sleeve of her blouse, smudged as if she had hastily tried to wipe it away. Mrs. Lewis inside a crudely drawn love heart.

"Hey, Alec? You might want to come and have a look at this."

Alec pulled himself away from the photo, feeling ever so slightly sick to his stomach. He would be having words with Simon after this. Jordan was staring at coat rack, the curved limbs of the metal furniture out of place in the middle of the hallway. What was even odder was the body strung up where jackets had once held pride of place. A twisted smile had been carved onto Maureen's mother's face, the jagged gash starting at the corners of the mouth and ending in line with her glassy eyes. The neck was simply torn apart. A bright bib of blood stood out against the pale pallor of long dead flesh.

Maia lost it then, quietly puking onto the carpet.

"Tsk tsk, mum only just vacuumed, she won't be very happy."

Startled, they spun around to confront the adolescent in front of the door. Alec had drawn a pair of seraph blades and the others adopted the claws of a werewolf.

Maureen regarded her home. "It is a bit cramped, isn't it? I guess it's enough for me and mum. How does she describe it?" She pulled a thinker pose, "Ahh yes, _cozy._" Hysterical giggles filled the air.

Alec shook his head in utter disbelief. "How did one of the strongest, most revered vampires in the entire world get bested by this mad little girl?"

This made Maureen laugh even harder. "Why with the help of my _friends, _of course."

Demons poured into the already cramped hallway, circling the three in a ring of twisted bodies.

Maureen's voice rose to compete with the sudden clamour. "Oh you foolish shadowhunter's. You didn't think that Sebastian would try to take on the Clave _alone, _did you? That's where Valentine went wrong. And all of the idiots before him. You see, demons cannot stop the shadowhunters. Nor the vampires, the werewolves, or any single race. The Clave cannot be stopped alone, even if you have bloody big welsh robots." Another giggling fit. "No, in order to destroy the clave we have to put aside our many differences and all work together under Lilith's banner. Isn't that beautiful? What, with the peace and unity and all that crap? The shadowhunters think that they're safe within their Idris stronghold, but Sebastian has built a better one."

At the sound of her prolonged giggling the demons advanced on their prey.

"Compliments from Lilith! She's very sorry she couldn't be here today, but some prior engagement has her occupied." Maureen grinned. "If only Simon was here." She glanced at her mother's corpse, before exiting out the front door.

Alec turned his attention to the ring of snarling faces trapping him and his friends. The demons were closing ranks, there was only one course of action available.

"_Shamsiel,_" Alec muttered, before leaping into the fray.

A Molochdemon lunged at Alec, but the Shadowhunter dodged its flailing arms and cleaved through its oily form in a move long practised with Jace in the training room. After that a smaller being with thick scales and a lashing tongue tried its luck, to no avail. His _parabatai _was lying immobile in a warlock's house, and Alec was out for blood.

* * *

The demon horde had been led on a chase through Maureen's house, but had finally trapped Alec and his comrades in a cramped bathroom. It was furnished sparingly, with only a shower, toilet, washbasin and a small window leading to the outside world. With blood stained hands Alec drew a ward rune on the otherwise flimsy wooden door.

"This won't hold them long. We need an escape route. How about that-"

"Alec," Jordan's blunt interruption caused Alec to turn away from his handiwork.

"Shit, Maia..."

Maia was being held in Jordan's arms, the side of her t-shirt crimson and sodden. Her head rested against Jordan's.

"Why...are..you...still...here?" She asked weakly, flecks of blood staining her teeth.

Jordan reached down and grabbed her shaking hand. "We're walking outta here together."

Her laugh in response was harsh and cynical as the blood rattled in her lungs. Maia closed her eyes and snuggled deeper into Jordan's shirt.

Jordan tore his eyes away from Maia as he turned to Alec again. "You should leave. Get some help." Jordan's voice was flat. It lacked the desperation of someone who thought that Maia had a chance. He understood perfectly, Jordan wanted to say goodbye. Alec turned towards the small window.

"Hey...Alec?" He turned to face the dying girl.

"Yeah?"

Maia opened her eyes. "See ya...round...Shadowhunter."

A small smile flitted on to Alec's face. "See ya, werewolf."

* * *

The minutes were stretching on and yet Maia was still clinging to the rough fabric of Jordan's t-shirt. They did not speak. Jordan gently rocked back and forth, his lips pressed into the soft hair on the top of Maia's head.

Thoughts were racing around Jordan's head. _I'm sorry. This is all my fault. I'm sorry. If only I hadn't bit you. If only you never met me. If only...If only…_ But Jordan kept his mouth closed. He didn't want to stain their last moments by bringing up all their old shit.

Maia could feel the silent apologies gushing out of Jordan's head. By now she was too weak to speak, so she tried to send a message in reply.

_I love you. _Blood started bubbling out of her mouth. _I love you. _Maia was now full on coughing, to Jordan it felt like she was hacking up her very insides.

_I love you. _Maia took one last rasping breath, the very air feeling like sandpaper down her throat. She exhaled, and died.

Jordan continued rocking Maia, even as the last warmth left her body.

_I love you too._

* * *

**_A/N:_**

**Sorry for the late posting of this chapter, we have been on holiday but are back so the next chapters should come soon :) Really excited for the release of the actual COHF but we hope this one help fills the gap.**


End file.
